Once more he cut her off, holding up one hand, palm out. “If you’re about to invoke Lady Shelham’s orchard, or the incident with Emma’s scones, you stop right now. Covering for me when we were children does not even remotely begin to—” Finally mastering himself, he squared his shoulders.

Isobelle’s heart—or possibly her stomach—did a jig of nervous anticipation. Now they’d see where he was going to come down on this.

“Why?” he asked Gwen, calm now. “Is it because of this”—and a wave of his hand took in the pair of them—“this . . . kissing? Or did you start out with the armor and the insane idea that you could get away with impersonating a man, and tack on Isobelle as a bonus later? Just out of interest.”

“I have no interest in being a man,” Gwen replied, her conciliatory tone going out the window. “What I want is to be a knight.”

“And the rest of it?” he demanded, turning on Isobelle. “Don’t tell me you had to kiss her to get her to protect you from Ralph, Isobelle. You’ve never needed to kiss anybody to get them to do what you want.”

“The rest of it was a surprise,” said Isobelle quietly, slipping her hand into Gwen’s and squeezing hard.

Gwen let out a slow breath, already recovering her temper. “Sir Orson,” she tried. “Please. If you care about Isobelle, please wait a few days before you turn me in. If you do it now, they’ll let Sir Ralph back in for the next round of the tourney, and then . . .”

“And then,” he agreed grimly, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone. You won the match fair and square. And Isobelle is my oldest friend. I couldn’t—”

Isobelle threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck—which took a bit of a run-up and a jump—and squeezing tighter than was good for him. “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely, as he tried to unwrap her.

“Isobelle,” he murmured, patting her back gently when the unwrapping failed. “This is improp . . .” He trailed away into helpless laughter.

“That ship has sailed,” she agreed, though she let him go.

“And is far over the horizon, probably turned pirate and raiding the nearest village,” he muttered. “But listen, both of you. You’re going to get caught.”

“Tomorrow, maybe,” Isobelle said softly. “But today, Gwen just defeated Sir Ralph.”

“That she did,” he agreed vehemently. “And for that, Lady Knight, I salute you.”

“Thank you, Orson,” Gwen whispered.

But he simply shook his head and closed his eyes, as though he could unsee everything that had just happened. And then he turned away, pushing his way out through the tent flap and leaving them in silence.

Chapter Thirty-Two
Don’t tell me you’re scared, Sir Knight